Harry Potter and the Goblet of Satire?
by Girl With a Pearl Earring
Summary: The quest for the ultimate horror movie is finally over!...If you're an ardent lover of the fourth Harry Potter book. Hold onto your broomsticks, it's going to be a bumpy ride! WARNING: If you adore the 4th Harry Potter movie, this might offend you.
1. Scene 1: The Riddle House

Scene 1: The Riddle House 

A/N: Hi! If you didn't figure it out before, this story follows the movie version of the Goblet of Fire, which I hate like Snape hates Harry. I make fun of a lot of things in the movie, so if that offends you, I apologize. That's not what I'm aiming to do. With that said, here comes the story!

WARNING: If you adore the fourth Harry Potter movie, I would suggest you don't read the following unless you have an open mind and a sense of humor.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Harry Potter book series or the Harry Potter movies. Obviously.

A dusty, dirty, and somehow fake-looking pile of skulls lay rotting in an old Muggle cemetery. Why they were out in the open, nobody seems to know. ("dramatic effect.")

Suddenly, out of the mouth of one of the skulls (which conveniently happened to be open) slithered a gigantic, CGI-animated snake! It slipped through the graveyard, hissing something in Parseltongue that sounded remarkably like what Harry had said to the snake in the second movie. It passed by a huge tombstone decorated with a winged statue of the Grim Reaper.

_Hmmm,_ wondered the snake as it passed, _Is it just me or doesn't the statue make the sinister nature that this graveyard will have later on in the movie blatantly obvious? Oh well, good thing I'm not the set designer._

And it moved on, letting the audience's attention wander past the Reaper's head and on into the sky where they noticed two words floating in the air: Harry Potter. Suddenly, the air underneath the words shimmered, revealing the rest of the title. It now read: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Satire. The floating title moved closer and closer and suddenly… It stopped and two vertical bars appeared in the top right corner next the word _Pause_.

"Now wait just a minute!" protested Ron Weasley, who was holding the DVD remote, "I thought we were watching the Goblet of _Fire_, not Satire!"

"No Ron," sighed Hermione Granger impatiently from the couch, "We watched that last weekend. This is a spoof off of the Goblet of Fire written by a crazed fan of the book who has way too much time on her hands."

"Why are we watching it then?" asked Ron.

"Because the writer's making us," said Hermione, "Someone has to fill the readers in on what's happening, which would be me. Someone has to ask all the obvious questions, which would be you. And of course someone has to provide a little humor, which would be Harry."

"Where is Harry anyway?" asked Ron.

"He'll pop in randomly whenever the story's getting a little too boring," said Hermione confidently.

"Okay, sounds good to me," said Ron, sitting back on the couch and pushing the play button.

The title resumed where it had left off, getting bigger and bigger until the camera angle passed underneath and the first scene began.

Several strange looking statues came into view, overlooking a huge mansion. An electric-looking light blazed in an upper story window before the scene changed again. An old man named Frank Bryce (who lived in an old house in an old neighborhood) lit an old burner and set an old kettle upon it. He then became completely annoyed with the word, 'old' and decided he liked 'ancient' much better. He stretched his arms and shook his hands about meaninglessly (muscle spasms, you see), then started getting out some tea making supplies. He stopped what he was doing and asked, "Uh, shouldn't I be refilling my hot water bottle instead?"

"It doesn't matter," snapped a voice from overhead.

"But where's my motivation for making a cup of tea in the middle of the night?" asked Frank, "Nobody makes a cup of tea at midnight!"

"They do now," said the voice, obviously irritated, "Now get on with the scene!"

"Okay, okay," muttered Frank. He looked out the window and noticed the strange light in the upper story of the mansion.

_Hmm, looks electric,_ he thought and slapped his tea bag down with a display of unprovoked annoyance. (Those bloody muscle spasms!) He took his keys off their hook, grabbed his flashlight, and walked to the back door of the mansion. Once there, he pushed open the door, realizing the people who broke in must've left it unlocked. Either that or the director wanted to save five seconds of film showing him unlocking the door.

He walked inside, his flashlight showing the ample amount of dust and cobwebs coated over every surface available. He walked shakily up the stairs while eerie music played, making Frank nervous. He knew something bad was about to happen, but he had to keep walking. Sweat slid down his cheek and dripped off his nose as he struggled to stop, but he couldn't do it. Something was making him keep walking. He strained his muscles to the breaking point, fighting against the invisible force pulling him onward. Something sinister was controlling his every move and making him keep to the movie plot. Why couldn't he control himself? What was this new horror? And then he remembered…he had signed a binding movie contract. (Dun, dun, dun! Supply necessary flashes of lightning.)

Suddenly, he heard voices conversing in the room where the light was coming from. He turned off his flashlight and tried to creep quietly up the stairs. The voice currently speaking sounded weak and very old. _No, not old, _thought Frank, _It sounded ancient_. Frank could only make out a few odd words due to the voice's heavy British accent and the raspy way whoever it was was speaking: "…Wormtail, as I recall…" Beyond that, Frank couldn't understand anything more.

As he crept up the stairs, the last step creaked loudly, but the men within the room didn't notice. Frank stepped forward cautiously, the voices becoming clearer with every step.

"My Lord Voldemort," another man was saying hesitantly, "I only meant…perhaps if we were to do it without the boy…"

"No!" rasped the first voice, "The boy is everything." He trailed off and started coughing violently.

Then he said, "Wait. Hold up a moment. Wormtail, did you just call me…Voldemort?!" His voice was suddenly much stronger, more threatening, and colder.

"It-It's in the script!" whimpered Wormtail.

"It is?" asked Voldemort in surprise.

"Y-yes, Master," answered Wormtail, holding out a scriptbook open to the first scene, "See?"

"Ah, so it is," said Voldemort, "I guess I'll have to let that one pass."

"Get back to the scene!" shrieked the strange overhead voice, "And Voldemort, get your voice back to normal! You're supposed to sound like you're dying!"

"But how am I supposed to be at all threatening when I sound like I'm about to have a coughing fit?"

"Don't ask questions," snapped the voice.

"Who are you, anyway?" asked Voldemort suspiciously.

"I'm the unspoken narrator," said the voice smugly.

"You're speaking now," pointed out Wormtail.

"Silence! Get back to the scene!" thundered the unspoken narrator. Wormtail cowered and whimpered in fright. Then he moved aside and another man crouched beside Voldemort's chair, revealing the source of the light: an electric lamp.

"I knew it!" cried Frank triumphantly, "It _is_ electric! Wait, isn't it supposed to be a fire?"

"It doesn't matter," said the unspoken narrator in irritation.

"But how does a lamp in a house that's been empty for fifty years still work?" asked Frank, "It's logically impossible. And isn't Voldemort the leader of an organization that despises Muggles and everything connected to them? Why would he want to use it? Or even know how to?"

"Enough!" boomed the unspoken narrator, now accompanied by a clap of thunder, "Back to the scene!"

Everyone turned his attention back to the new character (who was supposed to Bartemius Crouch, Jr., though strangely enough, no members of the audience Harry, Ron, and Hermione recognized him). He said, "I will not disappoint you, My Lord."

"Good," said Voldemort, "Wait…why are you in this scene? Shouldn't you be revealed later on? Doesn't it ruin all the suspense…not to mention anger all the already mentally unstable diehard fans of the book?"

"Well, yes," said the man uneasily, "But it saves tons of time and explanation this way."

"But it ruins the whole plot!" protested Voldemort, "Does this mean I can't talk about Bertha Jorkins at all? Or repeat my whole spiel about why we must use Harry Potter for the plan to work? I can't even question Wormtail's loyalty?"

"I'm afraid not," replied the man.

"Damn," said Voldemort, "Wait, isn't your hair supposed to be straw colored?"

"For the last time!" boomed the unspoken narrator, "Get on with the bloody scene! No more interruptions!"

"We're getting to it!" said the man who was supposedly Barty Crouch, Jr.

By this time, the CGI-animated snake was just creeping by Frank's feet, making Frank jump and move away. Voldemort spoke to the snake in Parseltongue. For some reason, the conversation sounded exactly like Harry's discussion with the snake in the second movie and the snake's speech at the beginning of the fourth movie. (Notice a pattern?)

"Nagini has interesting news," wheezed Voldemort, "she says the set designer made the Riddle house and the graveyard where they're buried into one set to save budget money. She also thinks, according to her excellent designer taste, that the statue of the Grim Reaper next to Tom Riddle's grave is a little preposterous."

There was a moment of silence, in which Wormtail and the man who was supposed to be Barty Crouch, Jr. looked at Voldemort expectantly, as if waiting for something else while Voldemort stared off into space and hummed a tune that sounded strangely like the Hogwarts school theme song.

"Did she say anything else, My Lord?" asked Wormtail hesitantly.

Voldemort seemed to be in thought for a moment before saying, "Oh, and the old Muggle caretaker is standing just outside the door. Stand aside, Wormtail, so I can give our guest a proper greeting."

Wormtail opened the door a bit wider then, forgetting what he was supposed to do, he fumbled with his scriptbook for a moment before putting it away and saying uncertainly, "According to the script, I'm supposed to smile creepily at you and stand aside so Voldemort can kill you."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," said Frank nervously, backing away. Why had he ever agreed to that binding movie contract? Alas, if he perished, then no one shall ever know of the horrors of the Hollywood Hall of Horrendous Holograms! which he had managed to escape from after his latest movie fiasco. ("What's that?" asked Ron. "It's the pit of eternal doom where people go when they break binding movie contracts," answered Hermione.)

"Really? I don't?" asked Wormtail brightly.

"Yes, you do," said the unspoken narrator, "Now get on with it!"

"Okay," whimpered Wormtail in fright. He smiled creepily at Frank and scurried away.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shouted (or rather, croaked noisily). Frank screamed as he was engulfed by green light and the camera cut to a scene of his 'ancient' kettle steaming and whistling on the 'ancient' stove in his 'ancient' house situated in his 'ancient' neighborhood before the screen blacked out.

A/N: So there you have it. This is my first attempt at writing anything in the Humor category, so any criticism (_constructive_ criticism) is welcome. Thanks for reading! Now finish the job and review! Or I might have to send you to the _other_ Hollywood pit of doom where fanfiction readers go when they don't review. :-)

R/N (Ron's note): What's _that_ pit of doom called?

H/N (Hermione's note): Er…actually, I don't know. The writer couldn't think of anything, so she's just blaming me now.

H/N (Harry's note): Hermione, how can the readers tell the difference between my note and yours?

H/N: They just have to guess.


	2. Scene 2: The Portkey

**Scene 2: The Portkey**

WARNING: If you adore the fourth Harry Potter movie, I would suggest you don't read the following unless you have an open mind and a sense of humor.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Harry Potter book series or the Harry Potter movies. Obviously.

Harry Potter lay in bed, frantically tossing and turning, having a terrible dream. He had just witnessed the first scene of the fourth Harry Potter movie, only it was horribly wrong. Everything was nightmarishly distorted, the plot mangled, the character development completely absent. How could something like this happen? No, it couldn't be true…it just couldn't!

From far away, he heard a familiar voice calling his name. With a start, he awoke…and immediately received a splitting headache. His scar, which seemed to have moved a few inches to the right and been turned sideways, was burning and on top of that, he had just whacked his head on a very heavy object while attempting to sit up.

Clutching his head and groping for his glasses, he heard the same person who had woken him up give a piercing scream. Putting on his glasses, he gasped at the sight before him.

Hermione, presumably the one who had woken him up, was rolling around on the ground trying to douse the flames that had erupted on her shirt. A candle lit in a holder (which was miraculously right side up) was on the ground a few feet away. Harry strongly suspected that the candle holder was the object he had so forcibly hit his head on.

Trying to ignore his pounding head, he quickly jumped out of bed and started hitting Hermione with his pillow, trying to beat the flames away. After a few moments, the fire had been successfully extinguished and Hermione, looking much the worse for wear with a badly singed jacket and the horrible smell of burning hair lingering about her, was able to stand up.

"Thanks Harry," she said, "I'm sorry about the candle holder. The script said I had to hold it above your head for some reason."

"That's okay, Hermione," he said, sitting back on his bed and rubbing his head in an attempt to ease the pain and hopefully push his scar back into its proper position. How did it move, anyway? Before he could ponder it anymore, he paused, struck by a sudden idea. "Hermione," he asked slowly, "What are you doing in this scene? Aren't I still supposed to be at the Dursleys' house?"

"No," she said sadly, "They had to cut a bunch of material, so we're in the scene right before we portkey to the World Quidditch Cup."

"What?" asked Harry faintly, "That would mean that they had to cut," he paused, calculating rapidly in his head, then spluttered "f-four chapters! But that's impossible! Where's the plot development? What about all the important information the audience needs to know to comprehend this blasphemous movie? I-I don't understand!"

Hermione sighed. "Neither do I," she said in obvious melancholy.

"What I don't understand," boomed a loud, annoyed voice from overhead, "is why this scene has been delayed for almost ten minutes white you two start fires and discuss things that have nothing to do with the integrity of this movie!"

"Well we wouldn't be starting fires if we didn't have such a horrible script to follow!" Harry shouted back, "And what do you mean by 'the integrity of this movie'? This movie _has_ no integrity! It's terrible!"

"Silence!" thundered the voice, "No actor may question me!"

"And who are you?" asked Harry in irritation. Besides reminding him forcefully of Uncle Vernon on one of his rants, the booming voice was doing nothing to help his headache.

"It's already been established that I'm the unspoken narrator! I won't repeat myself again!" the voice continued, getting louder with each word, "Now get back to the scene!"

Hermione, more to protect Harry from the inevitable wrath of the unspoken narrator than on any whim of her own, immediately moved over to wake up Ron, who was somehow still sleeping soundly through the whole racket.

"Wake up!" she said, shaking him, "Wake up, Ronald!"

Immediately he sat up, pulling the bedspread over his chest (even though he had a shirt on), and said, "Honestly!"

"_What?_" shrieked the unspoken narrator, "You're supposed to say, 'Bloody hell', not 'Honestly'! That's Hermione's line!"

"Yeah?" challenged Ron, "Well I'm tired of that stupid line! That's the only thing I ever have to say! You'd get tired of saying it too after four movies!"

Harry and Hermione had both been shaking their heads and hands about frantically as soon as he had spoken, trying to get Ron to be quiet, but he didn't get the hint.

"That's it!" screamed the unspoken narrator. Suddenly a deafening clap of thunder split the air and a huge lightning bolt zoomed out of the ceiling, connecting with the top of Ron's head.

"Bloody hell!" he screamed, his hair now black and smoking.

"That's more like it," said the unspoken narrator in a smug voice. "Back to the scene, minions!"

They immediately jumped into action, now terrified of incurring the anger of the mighty unspoken narrator.

"Honestly, get dressed," said Hermione, turning sharply away from Ron's bed after giving him a disdainful look, "And don't go back to sleep. Come on, Ron! Your mother says breakfast's ready!" And she started back down the stairs, not even bothering to ask if Harry was alright after his ghastly dream, even though he had been rubbing his scar (which for some reason had been moved several inches to the right and been turned sideways) most convincingly for the better part of the scene. This bothered her slightly, since she felt as though normally she would've worried about her friend in this type of situation. However, since she couldn't change the scene again without the unspoken narrator hitting her with a bolt of lightning and possibly causing her hair to become bushy (which of course should never happen in the movies because bushy-haired people just aren't attractive and all actors/actresses must be attractive, even if she was supposed to be Hermione Granger), she continued down the stairs.

Harry glanced over at Ron, who looked at him in a mixture of pain and confusion before slumping back down on his pillow, obviously trying to fall back asleep. "This is going to be a long movie," Harry muttered to himself.

Suddenly Harry found himself walking outside the Burrow following a good portion of the Weasley clan (plus Hermione).

"Ron, where are we actually going?" asked Harry. Ron yawned and coughed on the stench of his own still smoking hair.

"Aren't you supposed to know that already?" he asked.

"No, Hermione said that they had to cut out four chapters."

"_What?_"

"Hush," whispered Harry. "The narrator will hear you!"

"That's the _unspoken_ narrator," said the mysterious voice irritably. "And get back to the scene already."

"But there is no scene," Harry argued back, his enthusiasm for his story momentarily outweighing his common sense. "All we do is exchange, what? Six, seven lines? Then we line up around an old boot that Fred just _happens_ to mention is a portkey, and of course, I almost get left behind, and we arrive just on time at the tents where everyone is flying around like mad and doing all sorts of magical things that are supposedly 'outlawed' in the book and of course this all happens in a matter of maybe two minutes leaving most of the audience completely lost!"

"Now you've just given away the rest of the scene!" yelled the unspoken narrator.

"Not like there was much to give away in the first place," muttered Harry. There was a loud crack of thunder and Harry dodged the lightning bolt just in time as the unspoken narrator screamed in rage and took aim again.

Ron decided this was as good a time as any to continue the scene so he glanced through his script book and called to Mr. Weasley, "Hey Dad! Where are we going?"

"You were supposed to ask me that at least two minutes ago!" Mr. Weasley called back. "Anyway, I haven't the foggiest! Keep up!"

"But Dad," said Ginny, "That doesn't explain anything! You're supposed to know where we're going."

"Sorry," replied Mr. Weasley, "But the writers wanted to sacrifice the audience's understanding in place of some horribly dull 'comic relief'."

"Comic relief?" asked Fred, "From what?"

Harry ran past them, screaming loudly and trailing smoke, pursued by a continuous bolt of lightning rather like a laser beam.

"Oh, okay," said Fred, staring after Harry. "Well, at least _that_ question is answered."

"Arthur!" someone called in the distance. "It's about time, son!"

"Sorry, Amos," Mr. Weasley answered. "Some of us had a bit of a sleepy start." He glanced pointedly back at Ron, who just yawned again and grumbled, "I was just following the script."

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," Mr. Weasley said, indicating the newcomer, "Works with me, at the Ministry."

Suddenly another figure dropped out of the tree above them right on top of Harry, who happened to be passing underneath at the time, still running from the lightning laser beam.

"Sorry," said the new boy, scrambling to get off of him, "Didn't see you there." Once Harry had gotten to his feet, looking like he had been beaten up by Crabbe and Goyle combined, and the laser had disappeared back into the sky, the new boy held out his hand. "I'm Cedric Diggory."

"Um, haven't we already met?" asked Harry. Cedric looked at him, confused. "You know," Harry elaborated, "Last year, Quidditch game, I fell off my broom because of the dementors and you caught the snitch?"

"No, remember Harry?" asked Hermione. "They cut all the Quidditch scenes from the last movie, so we've never met Cedric before."

"Oh, right," said Harry, shaking Cedric's proffered hand, "Well, I'm Harry Potter, nice to meet you."

"Likewise," said Cedric, grinning. Ginny and Hermione exchanged glances upon seeing Cedric, although the audience was completely confused why this exchange was added when basic plot information was omitted to make way for it. (A/N: So am I.)

After standing for a few moments in awkward silence, Mr. Diggory, who had been fumbling through the script book, looked up and asked, "What part are we on now?"

They heard the voice overhead sigh, then say, "Just go to the portkey already so we can get this over with."

"Right-o!" said Mr. Diggory cheerfully, leading the way to the top of a steep hill. The camera passed up through the tall grass until, with a final burst of dramatic music, it passed Ginny (who was at the front of the group), came to the very top and settled on…a boot.

"Ginny, aren't you supposed to come over the hill last, clutching a stitch in your side?" asked Hermione in confusion, surreptitiously consulting her copy of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_, which she was sure would be confiscated (or struck by lightning) if the unspoken narrator found out about it.

"No, not what the script says," replied Ginny with a shrug.

"Do we have to go through the whole dialogue sequence since Harry already ruined it?" George asked, obviously hoping for the unspoken narrator to answer.

"Just go ahead and start counting down," said the unspoken narrator in considerably less anger than what they were accustomed to.

"Alright," said Mr. Diggory, "After three. One…Two…"

"Harry," called Mr. Weasley urgently. Harry, who had been standing around rather stupidly, got the hint and attempted to grab hold of the boot but unfortunately missed.

"Three!" yelled Mr. Diggory and they whirled away into the sky, leaving Harry laying on the grass and wondering why he had even bothered to get out of bed this morning.

"Dad," called Ron as they spun around dizzyingly, "We left Harry! What'll we do?"

Mr. Weasley was about to respond, but before he could, they all fell rather ungracefully to the ground. All except for Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric, however, who did a strange 'running through water' sort of move and landed neatly on their feet.

"Well, we're off," said Mr. Diggory, saluting Mr. Weasley, "After all, the only reason for me to be in this movie at all is because Cedric dies at the end." And with that, he walked down the crest of the hill with Cedric behind him.

They all looked awkwardly round at each other, wondering what to do now that the main character had disappeared.

"Well, this sucks," said Fred.

A/N: Ha ha, I love endings like that! Ahem, now after that thoroughly random and disturbing chapter, I expect you to leave _some_ kind of note, so if you'll just scroll down and type in your name and a few words (or letters, I'm not particular), I'll update that much faster!

R/N: What, that's it? _That_ was the ending? Now what's gonna happen?

H/N: Well…that's a good question, Ron. Let's ask Harry.

…

R/N: Harry?

H/N: Where is he?

R/N: Oh well, I guess we'll find out in the next chapter.


End file.
